


Just The Word

by soullessbrothers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Experimental Style, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Unrequited, Weechesters, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester, Young Winchesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 12:52:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soullessbrothers/pseuds/soullessbrothers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam’s alone in the motel, and it’s Dean’s job to call and check up on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just The Word

_Sam is on his own. The motel room is dark. Under the covers, his cock is in his hand. His eyes are screwed shut as he pumps his fist. The phone rings. Sam yelps and grabs it with his free hand. He’s shaking._

                       Uh, I, hi?  
                       Hi? Hey, Sammy.  
                       Dean.

_Sam sighs in relief._                     

                      Dad said I’d better check on you.  
                      ‘M, ‘m fine, Dean.  
                      You sure?  
                      Mhm. Mmm.

_His cock twitches again. Dad and Dean won’t be back for hours. Sam can take his time. He hates jerking off in the tiny motel bathrooms. He’s spread out on the bed and naked from the waist down._

                      I swear to God, Sammy, if you’re eating that goddamned candy I left—  
                      'M not!  
                      I’ll kick your ass.

_It feels better with his eyes closed. Sam strokes himself much more lazily. Dean can’t see him. It sends a thrill down through his belly and tingles his balls._

                      How’s the, the hunt?  
                      You know how it is. Dad’s reading up on the town history.  
                      Ghost?  
                      Think so. Missing me yet?  
                      Always miss you, Dean.

_A purr rumbles through the receiver. Sam’s cock jumps to it and he gasps. He presses his thumb into the tip, against his slit. Dean laughs._

                      Can’t live without me, huh, Sammy?    
                      Sh-shut up.

_Dean turns quiet. Sam can hear his breathing and it’s too loud. He bites his lip and squeezes his eyes again, tight enough to see pinpricked colours across his lids. He thinks that he can hear Dean’s breath, too. His mouth is right against the phone. Sam flushes. Dean’s mouth is almost at his ear._

                      Sorry, Sammy. Dad’s talking to some chick. Man, she’s hot.  
                      She is?  
                      Hell yeah. Man, when you’re older you’ll appreciate stuff like this.  
                      I am older!  
                      Yeah, sure.  
                      I am!

_The sound of Dean’s laugh warms Sam’s ear. It tickles. Sam swallows hard. He palms over himself a little faster and he can feel his cheeks flush._

                      I, um, Dean, tell me what she’s like?  
                      Great ass, Sammy. How she got into those jeans, I dunno, but damn, she’s perfect.  
                      Yeah?  
                      You should see it. If Dad wasn’t here…  
                      What?

_Dean laughs again and Sam squirms. He slides precome over himself and the strokes are easier. He doesn’t care that Dean is teasing him, treating him like a kid._

                      You asking for tips there, Sammy?  
                      I, I dunno. Maybe?  
                      This ain’t the time.  
                      Please talk to me.

_If Sam concentrates, he can hear more of Dean’s breath. Dean is right beside him. He shifts so the blankets warm his right side, the side holding the phone. Sam can picture it. Dean’s lying against him and his lips purr against the skin behind his earlobe._

                      You lonely there, Sammy?

_Sam doesn’t answer. His wrist is starting to ache. So is the space behind his stomach. His breath hitches and he can feel Dean’s worry. He imagines that it’s Dean’s hand on his cock, so he squeezes himself._

                      Sammy?  
                      I, Dean, I, I wish I was, I was—  
                      Hey. We’ll be home soon, man. Don’t worry about it. Go to sleep.  
                      Please, Dean—  
                      You sound tired.  
                      Dean—  
                      This is why Dad says you can’t come. Dude, it’s barely eleven.  
                      C-come?  
                      Yeah.  
                      I, I wanna come, Dean, it’s—  
                      You wanna come?  
                      Dean, it’s—  
                      You really wanna come?

_Dean’s breath sounds louder than ever and Sam whimpers into the phone. His knuckles whiten around the discoloured plastic and his cock slips out of his grip. He grasps it again and curls onto his side. He holds the phone in place between his head and the pillow underneath him. His now free hand is Dean’s and it roams over his stomach to brush just over his groin. Sam thinks Dean must be a tease._

                      I said, you really wanna come, Sammy?  
                      I really wanna come, Dean. Please, just—  
                      Please what?  
                      Please let me, please, Dean, I need, I need to, please—  
                      You talk to Dad, man. I’m not your goddamn errand boy.

_His pants are getting deeper with every exhale. Sam rocks up into his palm as quickly as he can pump his wrist. He bites his lip and ruts, ruts hard, each thrust a rub against the blanket._

                      You’d let me come, Dean, right?  
                      What?  
                      You’d, you’d let me come, if, if I wanted?  
                      Sam—  
                      Please say, please?  
                      Okay, okay. I’d let you come. Jesus.

_Dean keeps talking but that’s it, it’s over. Sam lets the words wash over him and he comes. He spatters the sheets with it. His body shakes. He’s undone._

                      Sam. Sammy!  
                      I, Dean, I—  
                      You even listening to me?

_Fear replaces the warmth that sweeps down to Sam’s toes. Dean can’t know. He doesn’t know. Sam’s crazy. Dean’s voice drives him crazy._

                      I’m just tired, Dean.

_He hopes that’s believable. He hears Dean sigh._

                      Go to bed. I’ll see you when you wake up, bitch.  
                      I, yeah. Yeah. See you.  
                      Hell, you are tired. G’night, Sam.

_The line dies. They’ll be home soon, but Sam can’t move. He doesn’t want to. Instead, he lies there with the receiver at his ear. If he thinks hard enough, he can feel Dean breathing._


End file.
